


His Centurion

by riventhorn



Category: The Eagle (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:09:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt at the_eagle_kink requesting Esca/Marcus with Marcus wearing his Roman uniform with the skirt</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Centurion

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mix of book verse and movie verse
> 
> Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; no profit is being made from this

Esca was halfway up the steps to the villa when he realized that Marcus was not behind him. Looking back, he saw that Marcus had come to a halt in the courtyard and was staring up at the dark sky. Esca stopped and waited, taking the moment to gaze more fully upon Marcus than he had been able to earlier, when Marcus had first stepped before him, dressed in the armor of a centurion.

The scaled metal shirt that Esca had seen turn the swords of the Brigantes gleamed in the torchlight. His _gladius_ hung from a baldric, the sword encased in an elaborately embossed leather sheath. Esca’s eyes traveled downwards, past the red tunic that fell just above Marcus’s knees and the _cingulum_ belt with its dangling leather straps, over his muscled calves and to the _caligae_ strapped to his feet before speeding upwards again to focus on Marcus’s face. He had never seen Marcus in his armor before, but the _sevir Augustalis_ had requested that Marcus wear it to a ceremony honoring the emperor. Marcus had unearthed it from a chest and spent hours buffing the metal until no traces of rust remained.

The wearing of it had brought back memories. Esca could see it in the stiff set of Marcus’s shoulders and the way he had flinched at loud noises like a skittish horse. It was better that his friend did not think on such things—old battles and pain, the end of the Ninth Hispana, a wingless eagle now buried under soil and stone.

“Come,” he said softly, going back to Marcus and taking his arm.

Marcus drew a breath as his mind returned to the shadowed courtyard. He gripped Esca’s shoulders for a moment and then walked inside, but as he turned towards his own chambers, Esca stopped him.

“No, not tonight.”

Marcus paused, his mouth opening on a refusal, and then he sighed and nodded. Some of the tension eased out of his body.

Esca lit a candle when they reached his room before shutting the door and turning to Marcus. He knelt to unbuckle the sword, and traced Marcus’s leg with his fingers, ankle to knee, then bestowed a soft kiss on the inside of his thigh. The scaled armor was unfamiliar, but he quickly learned which straps and buckles to unfasten so that he could lift it from Marcus’s shoulders and set it carefully aside. He left the cingulum fastened around Marcus’s waist, catching one of the strips in his fingers and feeling the metal plates that had been studded into the leather.

When he reached between Marcus’s legs to cup his arousal through the wool tunic, Marcus pressed his lips tightly together, holding back a moan, and then said hoarsely, “Esca, I—I don’t want to dream of it. Not again.”

“I know.” And Esca soothed him with a kiss to the curve of his neck before ordering, “Bend over the table.”

Marcus swallowed, a shiver wracking his body, but he did as commanded, bending over and gripping the edges of the table, the skirt of the tunic riding up his thighs.

Esca’s cock stiffened, and he went to stand behind Marcus. He urged his legs apart, and Marcus complied, although his lame leg trembled a little. Esca rubbed his hand down it, kneading at the muscles, before pushing up the tunic. He let one finger trail along the cleft of Marcus’s ass, and Marcus clenched reflexively before relaxing and pushing back, letting Esca probe his hole with a spit-slick finger.

He had done well in teaching his Centurion how to submit.

The first time Marcus had let Esca take him, he had been ashamed and angry afterwards. But Esca had let him see that it did not change things between them, and so Marcus had sought him out again, after a hunt when their blood ran high, and Esca had mounted him and taught the Centurion how to satisfy his pleasure. They were brothers of the sword and the heart, now.

Marcus murmured his name, and Esca pressed against his back, letting his cock rub against Marcus’s balls. Some oil for his fingers and he worked two into Marcus again, listening to Marcus keen softly.

“The Centurion hungers for this tonight,” Esca whispered, carding gentle fingers through Marcus’s hair.

“No—no don’t call me that,” Marcus begged, his hips pushing back against Esca's fingers. “I can’t keep holding on to it, Esca, I _can’t_.”

Esca put his hand on Marcus’s flat stomach, found a nipple and rubbed it, twisted it. “Marcus.” He kissed the back of his neck. “Marcus. It is in my heart that you think too long on old dreams when spring wakens the land.”

Marcus buried his face in his arm. “Yes. I do that to my shame. Keep me here, Esca. Keep me with you.”

Esca drew back, spreading Marcus’s buttocks and drawing out his fingers, then guiding his stiff cock inside. He thrust slowly at first, then harder, until he was pounding against Marcus and they were both gasping out at the feeling of it. The leather strips of the cingulum, hanging down between Marcus’s legs, jangled together, adding to the noise. Marcus reached down to stroke himself, and Esca joined him, stripping his slick cock until Marcus cried out and spent himself over their fingers. Looking down, Esca watched his own hard shaft surge into Marcus, and he shut his eyes, clutching hard at Marcus’s hips as he came.

They stumbled to the bed, still clothed in sweaty tunics, too tired to do more than curl together and kiss. “There is no shame,” Esca murmured at last. “I, too, look back on the days when I carried a sword into battle against your legions and howled my victories to the gods.”

“And do you wish to have such days again?” Marcus asked, rubbing his thumb over Esca’s cheekbone and holding his eyes.

“No,” Esca replied. “I am on a new road now, and although I cannot see the end, my heart is glad that you are beside me.”

Marcus smiled. “Yes, it is good that we are together, you and I.”

~Fin~

 

Notes: from a quick survey of Roman armor, it appears that the molded breastplate Marcus wears in the movie was probably only worn by very high officials at special occasions. I’ve given him a shirt of scaled armor instead, called lorica squamata, an example of which can be seen [here](http://www.armamentaria.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=284). Another popular type of armor was the lorica segmentata (no one knows the actual Roman name for it) which was formed of segmented plates. The cingulum militare, the belt with the leather strips hanging down, often had only a few strips—less than a full skirt. Its purpose seems to be a little obscure, in the first century it supported the _puglio_ which was a short dagger that was perhaps used in conjunction with the _gladius_ or short sword. A good website explaining the armor of legionaries in Roman Britain is [here](http://www.erminestreetguard.co.uk/index.html) and there’s also a picture of a reenactor dressed as a centurion, like Marcus.

The _sevir Augustalis_ was one of six officers in towns in Roman Britain who “maintained the worship of the emperor.” They were often “elected from the more wealthy freedmen of a town, thus providing a social outlet for this class as well as demonstrating loyalty to the Roman emperor.”


End file.
